I'm Going Back To The Start
by charocon
Summary: If what happened at the end of Reichenbach wasn't exactly as it seems.


"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson shouted from downstairs. "Sherlock there's a man here for you! He's been banging on the door for nearly twenty minutes!"  
"Not now, Mrs Hudson! I'm busy!" Sherlock called back.  
Sherlock had been struggling with his ongoing feud with Moriarty. However recently it had gotten much worse.

It was almost four o'clock in the morning. Sherlock often worked through the night when there was a case he needed to solve. He was prone to having "nutters" (according to Mrs Hudson) knocking on for him at all hours, but this was different. There was something very strange about the man waiting for him downstairs, Sherlock could sense it.

"What's all this bleeding racket?" John shouted from his bedroom.  
"Nothing, John. Go back to sleep!" Sherlock replied.  
"There's no point now, I've got to be up again for work in two hours. I might as well make some coffee." said John. "Do you want sugar, Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't reply, he just sat at his desk and stared intently at the half-open door to their flat.  
John took no notice of Sherlock's ignorance - he was used to it - and made him some coffee anyway.

"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson shouted once again. "He won't leave! Please come down dear! He says his name is..."  
She hesitated slightly before calling back. "He says his name is, John Smith."

Sherlock jumped up from his desk, sending the coffee John had just made him flying all over the room.  
"Sherlock! What do you-"  
Sherlock had grabbed his coat and shoes and fled the room before John could finish his sentence.

Sherlock hurriedly wrapped his coat around him as he bounded down the stairs.  
Once at the bottom he scrambled about with his laces until his shoes were haphazardly tied.  
"Don't bother leaving the door unlocked, Mrs Hudson. I shan't be returning within the next twenty four hours."  
He then winked at Mrs Hudson and shut the door with one swift movement, leaving her standing in the hallway still in her night gown, with her mouth gaping open.

"So, John Smith, eh? Don't you think that one's getting a bit old now?" Sherlock said as he turned to greet the mysterious man.  
"Nah, I like it." said the stranger, as he stepped out from the shadows into the orange glow of a street lamp.  
The man was quite odd looking. He had quite a young face, but something about his eyes suggested otherwise. They were a cloudy green-grey colour and seemed full of wisdom. Sherlock found himself staring into them, mesmerised by the swirling shapes in his irises, lit up slightly by the street lamp.

"You've regenerated, I see." Sherlock said suddenly, as he realised his fascination with the mans eyes could be misconstrued as something different.  
"Yes." said the man "Twice since we last met."  
"It's a shame about the outfit, though. I was quite fond of that leather jacket." Sherlock said, a smirk spreading across his face.  
The man was wearing some very strange choices of clothing. High waisted trousers held up by red braces, a bright striped shirt, tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, and a red bow tie. Not the type of outfit men of his age would usually wear (his face looked no older than thirty).

"What?" said the stranger "Don't you like the bowtie? I thought it was rather cool."

The two of them walked for a while, through the eerily quiet streets of London. Dawn was breaking and Sherlock was becoming increasingly aware of what he was wearing. Despite having his long coat on, his striped pyjama bottoms could be seen and he felt slightly self concious.

"So..." said Sherlock after a few minutes of silence "is it time?"  
"I'm afraid so." answered the funny man in the bow tie "Do you want to know how-"  
"No." Sherlock replied quickly "No, I'd rather not."

"Alright." said the stranger "Let's just get to the TARDIS, I'm freezing."  
He led Sherlock through a long, dark alleyway. It twisted and turned and Sherlock felt as if they had been walking for hours before the man stopped in front of a large, blue box with the words 'Police Public Call Box' on the top of it in white.

He opened the door and Sherlock stepped inside.  
"Still bigger on the inside, I see." he said. And Sherlock was right, this odd blue box was impossibly larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside.

Sherlock gazed around in awe at the magnificent room before him, it was filled with completely alien technology, and right in middle, up a few metal steps was a central console surrounded by dangling wires and various screens. The room was lit with a slight orange glow and filled by a soft humming sound coming from the console in the middle.

"Fascinating." Sherlock whispered.  
"Yes, I think so." agreed the stranger enthusiastically. "Right, I'll get her started up! Where to first? The grand canyon? The northern lights? Oh, I know a lovely place in the G3 galaxy where-"  
"No." Sherlock interrupted "No, just, let me think for a moment."  
"Ah, yes. Of course, it must be a lot to take in."

Sherlock sat down on one of the chairs surrounding the console, placed his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead against his hands. He sighed and began to think.

His mind wandered to about seven years ago, long before he met John. He was living with Mycroft (much to Mycroft's disgust) at his mother's request after coming out of rehabilitation. He had been addicted to various drugs and Mycroft was helping him get back on track. Mycroft knew what a brilliant mind Sherlock had, so he introduced him to Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade at Scotland yard - an old friend of Mycroft's - hoping that Sherlock's skills in deduction could help Lestrade with some of the more trickier cases he was faced with. Lestrade was extremely reluctant at first, but when Sherlock solved a case he had been struggling with for months in a matter of days, he had no choice but to give him a chance.

Sherlock had an addictive personality, and working on these cases had given him a new purpose. He had found a comfortable lifestyle and was quite happy with the way things were going for him. Then, of course, something happened which would completely throw off his new found balance. He didn't believe it at first - what he saw. He thought it must have been a flashback to one of his 'trips'.  
A metal creature, it was. About the size of a dustbin. It looked as if it had a toilet plunger and a whisk stuck to the front of it, like some hideous home made creation off Blue Peter.  
Sherlock giggled when he saw it, in the middle of Trafalgar square one afternoon. He didn't understand at first why people were running away frantically and screaming at him to get away. That was, until it shot and killed a woman and her child who were running past him.

He froze, his mouth was moving but no words were coming out. The creature's strange eye stalk turned to look at him, Sherlock could see his reflection in it's glowing blue eye.  
Then it spoke. Just one word, but the thought of it still sent shivers down Sherlock's spine.  
"EXTERMINATE!" it shrieked in a chilling, robotic voice.

Sherlock's feet wouldn't cooperate with his minds desperate plea for him to run. He was just stood there, staring into the creatures one eye as members of the public shouted at him, begging him to flee.  
Before his mind had registered what was happening, someone had grabbed his arm and was dragging him away.  
When they were at a safe distance, Sherlock managed to choke a few words out "W-what was that, that _thing_?"

He turned to be greeted by a man who looked to be in his early forties, he had a friendly face with laughter lines, and was wearing a leather jacket.

"A dalek. Old enemies, nasty things. I'll deal with it." He answered in a strong, northern English accent.  
"But before that, I need to get you sorted, what the hell were you doing just standing there?"  
"I-I panicked." Sherlock stuttered "I thought if I moved it might kill me."  
"Understandable." said the man with a small smile.

"Well, you wait in here while I go and take care of that dalek." he said, pointing to a blue box resembling a phone box. Sherlock had been so wrapped up in the previous events that he hadn't even noticed it.  
"No I-I really don't think that's necessar-"  
"Please, I insist!" said the man "We've got a lot of talking to do. Wouldn't wanna miss out on an opportunity to have a chat with the great Sherlock Holmes now, would I?" and with that, he was gone.

Sherlock shook his head, hoping this was all just some horrible and very confusing dream. He had tried his best to deduce whatever he could from this strange man, but had no success. This stranger was a completely closed book and it frustrated Sherlock. Nevertheless, he complied with the mans strange request, and stepped inside the blue phone box.

Sherlock fainted within a minute of stepping inside.

About an hour later, Sherlock came round and opened his eyes to see the strange man grinning down at him.  
"I got rid of it!" he beamed.  
Sherlock sat up and looked around the room again.  
"I-It's b-"  
"Bigger on the inside, yeah I know." finished the stranger.  
"But-how-I-" Sherlock let out a huge scream then, scrambled to his feet and attempted to run towards to door and leave, only to trip over and break his nose on the cold, metal floor of the room.  
Sherlock groaned and stood up again.  
"Alright, tell me who you are and what you want with me." Sherlock demanded "Do you want to perform some sort of sick experiment on me? Because if you do then I'd prefer to know beforehand."  
"What? No, of course not! I just want to talk to you!" replied the man in absolute horror.  
Sherlock eyed him suspiciously. "How do you know who I am?"  
"Are you kidding? You're Sherlock Holmes! I've seen you in the papers! With John Watson and the deerstalker and all of that!"  
Sherlock stared at him blankly. The man checked a device on his wrist that resembled a watch.  
"Oh no, I'm wrong. A few years early. Never mind, ignore me. Sorry, what else did you want to know?"  
"Your name. Tell me who you are." Sherlock demanded once again, more aggressive this time.  
"Ah, yes, of course. Er, The Doctor. I'm just The Doctor."  
That raised more questions for Sherlock than it answered, but he chose to ignore it, and just nodded.  
"Ok. And this..._thing._" Sherlock gestured to the room around him.  
"This '_thing'_ is the TARDIS" answered The Doctor. "That stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space."

"What does it do?" asked Sherlock.  
"It's my ship." The Doctor replied proudly with a large grin.  
"Oh, so you're an alien?" Sherlock said, not quite being able to believe the words that had just come out of his mouth.  
"Well, to you I suppose I am, yes." he sighed.  
"I'm a Time Lord."

Sherlock asked more questions, and the two of them sat there for at least three hours as The Doctor told him about his whole life, his enemies, companions, and his planet.  
Sherlock - although completely infatuated with interest for this man - was still not quite convinced, and began to question his sanity.  
Sherlock had always lived in a world where everything had a logical explanation, and he had been completely comfortable with that. Then this complete stranger comes along and within a few hours changes his whole perspective on the entire universe and everything in it.

But there was one particular thing that affected Sherlock the most, and that was when The Doctor said, "Oh, did I mention that the TARDIS is also a time machine?"  
Sherlock stared at him for a few seconds before breaking down into tears. He didn't know what else to do.  
"Well, no one has ever reacted quite like that before." said The Doctor with a small chuckle and rested his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.  
Sherlock laughed, wiping the tears from his face. "I'm sorry. But, a time machine? That's not something one here's very often."  
They stayed there for a while in silence and Sherlock attempted to collect his thoughts.

"Could I come with you?" Sherlock said impulsively after a few minutes "Travel with you I mean? Like the others?"

The Doctor sighed, lifted his hand away and began pacing.  
"It's not as simple as that Sherlock." he said "Ordinarily I would say yes. But you, you're different."  
"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.  
"I mean that I can't take you off your path. I don't mean to sound all spiritual but I can't help it. Most of the time I would be able to do that but there are some people whose lives are just too important, too set-in-stone, so to speak, that to take them away from that life would be to change the whole history of the universe."  
Sherlock glared at him.  
"I've seen your future Sherlock, I've been there! You have no idea!" he shook his head and looked Sherlock straight in the eyes.  
"You're going to achieve great things, Mr Holmes." said The Doctor sincerely "And I can't keep you from achieving them, I just can't."

"Alright." said Sherlock, his mind spinning.

"But there is one thing I can do for you, if you really do want to travel with me. One promise I can make."

"Yes, of course, anything!" Sherlock said enthusiastically. He cleared his throat and collected himself before speaking again. "Of course, what is it?"

"One day. I can give you one day. One day and we can go wherever you want, to whatever time, planet or galaxy you want."

Sherlock swallowed and nodded.

"But it will have to be the day before you die."

"Ok." Sherlock said finally, after much contemplation. "I know where I want to go."

"Alright, brilliant!" said The Doctor as he practically leaped around the TARDIS, pressing various different buttons and pulling various different levers.  
"Where will it be? Name me any planet, anywhere! Oh you know we could go and see Bill Shakespeare if you want! Or-"

"John." Sherlock said in nothing more than a whisper "I want to see John."

"Are you sure?" asked The Doctor, he seemed to have lost some of his excitement. "Time machine, remember? We can go way into the past, or into the future and-"

"I do want to go to the future." said Sherlock quietly.  
"I want to see John. A-after my death. I just...I just want to know that he'll be alright."

The Doctor gave him a sympathetic smile, went over and pulled him into a tight hug.  
"Of course." he said "Whatever you want."

He broke the hug and went back to pressing buttons on the TARDIS console.

Sherlock just sat, watching The Doctor with fascination, trying not to think about what would be waiting for him when he stepped out of the TARDIS door.

The central part of the console began to move up and down with a metallic whirring, and the whole room shook.  
Sherlock hung on to the console as best he could to prevent himself from falling off his chair.

No more than five minutes later, the whirring stopped and the room stopped moving.

"Here we are." said The Doctor.  
"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Absolutely." Sherlock answered shakily. He could feel tears stinging his eyes but he managed to hold them back.

"After you." said The Doctor, gesturing to the door.

Sherlock walked carefully down the metal steps from the console to the door.  
He took a deep breath, opened the door slowly and stepped outside.

He closed his eyes, and took a few more breaths, the sweet scent of morning air and tree bark stung his nostrils.

He then opened his eyes. It took a while for the image of his surroundings to register.  
He was in a graveyard, and just yards in front of where he and The Doctor were standing behind a tree, was John. He was stood in front of a gravestone, a shiny black gravestone with "Sherlock Holmes" engraved on it in gold letters.

Sherlock took in one shaky breath and The Doctor patted him softly on the shoulder.

John looked as if he was about to cry, he was talking to the gravestone, as if he was talking to Sherlock himself. Little did John know that technically, he was.

Despite John's words being muffled, Sherlock could just about make out was he was saying.

"You told me once that you weren't a hero, um, there were times I didn't even think you were human. But, let me tell you this: you were the best man and human being I've ever known, and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. That's,uh, there.  
I was so alone, and I owe you so much.  
Look, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't, be, dead. Would you do that, just for me, just stop it. Stop this."

John went over and touched the top of the gravestone before leaving.

Sherlock was desperately fighting the urge to run over to John, grab him and shout at him that he wasn't dead. But he couldn't, so he just stood there, completely helpless, and watched John walk away.

He turned to The Doctor and begged him "Please, Doctor, isn't there anything you can do? Isn't there any way that time can be rewritten? Just this once?"

The Doctor looked at Sherlock with sorrowful eyes and shook his head.  
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. If there was any way it could, I would allow it. But not this time, not now. I'm sorry, I really am. But there are some things that just have to remain."

Sherlock leant back against the side of the TARDIS.  
"I don't want to die yet Doctor, I'm not ready."  
He slid down until he was sat on the floor, curled up into a ball, and began to weep softly.

The Doctor sat down beside Sherlock and put his arm round his shoulder.  
"Nobody wants to die. And despite what some people say, I don't think anyone's ever truly ready for it. It just happens. It's a completely natural thing that everyone has to go through and accept. I know it's hard. Believe me, I've seen more people go through it than I'd care to remember."

Sherlock looked up at The Doctor and smiled. "Thank you, Doctor."  
The Doctor hesitated.  
"You're welcome." he smiled back "I'm The Doctor, I'm here to help."

They sat there for a few minutes before The Doctor stood up.  
"Alright then, I think it's best that we get you home."  
"Yes." agreed Sherlock, and followed him back into the TARDIS.

When they arrived back at Baker Street, not fifteen minutes had passed since they left.

Sherlock stepped out of the TARDIS and turned to face The Doctor. He had stopped crying now and had managed to calm himself.

"Goodbye, Doctor. Thank you for everything."

The Doctor simply smiled, nodded, and stepped back inside the TARDIS.  
Sherlock watched as it disappeared, sending bits of rubbish flying and making enough sound to wake up half of London.  
Sherlock would miss that sound.

He smiled to himself, and just as he was about to open the door to 221B, John opened it.  
"What the- Sherlock! You scared the bloody life out of me!"  
Sherlock laughed and smiled at John.  
"I thought you were going to be gone for hours?"  
"So did I. Funny how time changes isn't it?"  
John shot him a confused look and Sherlock chuckled.

"Come on inside then" said John "I made some more coffee."  
"Splendid." Sherlock replied, as he walked up the steps and into his flat for the last time, to enjoy what precious time he had left with his best friend.


End file.
